Between a Rocket and a Hard Place
by ChrisR
Summary: I Dream of Jeannie crossover! When America's Skylab space station is damaged during launch, Control suspects sabotage  and the prime suspect is none other than Major Anthony Nelson.


This story crosses Get Smart and I Dream of Jeannie. Like most of my Get Smart stories, it is set after the original series - in this case both original series - but before the reunions. Max and 99 are married, as are Tony and Jeannie, and Thaddeus is still the Chief - ChrisR.

BETWEEN A ROCKET AND A HARD PLACE

_Kennedy Space Center, Florida  
May 14, 1973, 1:30 PM, EDT_

The giant rocket rose majestically on a column of flame, the assembled throng cheering it on ever skyward until after mere minutes it had climbed out of sight.

Inside the blockhouse, the Launch Control Officer and his team continued following its progress via the readouts on their computer screens. As he monitored the flow of telemetry from the vehicle, a slight crease appeared on his brow, the only crack in his usually impassive demeanor, and a small sound escaped his lips. "Uh oh."

_Acapulco, Mexico_

The man and woman paddled through the warm tropical water faces down, snorkels up, entranced by the exotic aquatic life forms. The woman's long hair streamed behind her as the couple silently shared the excitement of discovery.

Suddenly, a hitherto imperceptible light began flashing on one of the man's flippers. The woman touched his arm and pointed to the light. Behind his face mask, a look of annoyance passed through the man's eyes. Reluctantly, he surfaced, the water draining from his hair and shoulders. While the woman surfaced beside him, he removed his mask, letting it dangle around his neck, then reached down and took off the flipper. Ignoring the stares of holiday makers in nearby boats, he held it to his face and spoke into its base - into which appeared to be moulded the mechanism of a telephone.

"Maxwell Smart, Secret Agent 86, here."

Act 1

_Control Headquarters, Washington, DC_

"This better be important, Chief," Max grumbled.

"It is," the Chief assured him.

"99 and I were snorkeling in Acapulco."

"What you do in your own time is your own business, Max."

"You know how long we've been planning a second honeymoon."

"I know," the Chief sympathized, "but this is a national emergency."

Max set his jaw. "Why do national emergencies always have to happen to me?"

"You must have heard about this on the news," the Chief went on. "It concerns NASA."

Max squinted at him. "You want me to arrest a masher? Isn't that something the local police could have handled?"

"Not a masher, Max. NASA - the National Aeronautics and Space Administration."

"Oh, yes, of course. The space agency."

The Chief nodded. "Then you know what this is about."

"Yes, Chief."

"Good."

"I'm fairly certain it has something to do with space."

The Chief felt the beginnings of a headache. "More specifically, Max, it has to do with NASA's Project Skylab. Do you know what _that_ is?"

"Of course." Max leaned back expansively, over-balancing his chair as he did so. With his arms flailing wildly, he managed to right himself just in time, the feet of his chair landing back on the floor with a loud thud.

"Well, " the Chief went on as if nothing had happened, "what is it?"

"What's what?"

"Project Skylab."

"Project Skylab," Max repeated. "That's, er. . . a project . . . with a lab, er . . . in the sky."

The Chief eyed him suspiciously. "And when is this 'lab in the sky' going to be launched, Max?"

Max held the Chief's gaze, looking like he was trying to read the other man's mind. "Well, Chief, that would be . . . pretty soon now, I think."

"Ha! I knew you were faking. It so happens that Skylab was launched yesterday."

"Good," Max replied huffily. He stood up as if to leave. "Then 99 and I can go back to Acapulco."

"Not so fast, Max. If you'd really been keeping up with current events you'd know that the lab was damaged during launch. I need you to go to Cape Kennedy to investigate."

"Ha!" Max exclaimed. He sat back down again grinning broadly.

"'Ha!', what?" the Chief demanded irritably.

"I knew you needed me, Chief."

The Chief couldn't help smiling; Max really was like a small child sometimes. The headache receded. "Yes, Max, I need you. But since you obviously don't know the first thing about Skylab you're going to need a full briefing from Professor Walker if you're going to pull this off."

"Pull what off? What aren't you telling me, Chief?"

"Well, work it out for yourself, Max. The NASA boys are treating this as an accident and they're working on a technical solution but as an intelligence agency we have access to certain information that they don't. And I don't need to tell you that this country has enemies - opponents if you will - who don't want to see us make too much progress. Put it all together and what have you got?"

"Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo?"

"We haven't got time for your song and dance now, Max," the Chief said firmly. (Translation: He was mercifully headache-free for the moment and intended to stay that way.) "I'm talking about sabotage," he elucidated.

"Sabotage!" Max was aghast.

"That's our fear."

Max shook his head. "Don't they know cheaters never win?"

"It's imperative that we uncover and eliminate any saboteurs before NASA launches the astronaut crew who will man the lab," the Chief continued. "I've arranged with General Schaeffer, who heads the NASA base in Cocoa Beach, for you and 99 to go in as part of the Accident Investigation Team. He'll be the only one who knows that your true assignment is to investigate the suspects."

"That's brilliant, Chief! What better cover for an investigator than an investigator? Even if the suspects suspect they're suspected they'll never suspect that the investigators would actually be the investigators."

"You think so?"

"Absolutely, Chief."

"I did, too." The Chief looked worried. "Maybe I should change it."

Max stood up. "Well, I'm off, Chief."

The Chief looked up at him. "Where are you off to, Max?"

"To Cocoa Beach to investigate the suspects."

"Isn't there something you'd like to ask me first, Max?"

"Like what?"

"Like, who _are_ the suspects?"

"Now that you mention it, Chief, that _would_ be handy to know." He sat down again. "Who _are_ the suspects?"

The Chief passed Max a manilla folder. "Their dossiers are in here."

Max opened the folder. Staring out at him was an 8 by 10 photo of a handsome, smiling man wearing the uniform of an Air Force major.

"But that's Tony Nelson, the astronaut!" Max exclaimed in surprise. "He's a hero."

"I hope that's true, Max," the Chief replied, "but he's also been the subject of a number of disturbing reports over the years."

"Like what, Chief?"

"Well, for instance, an IRS inspector named Henry Huggins once reported that he'd found an undeclared collection of priceless works of art in Nelson's house. An art expert later declared them to be cheap copies but Huggins was adamant that they were real and must have been switched. Later on, three million dollars turned up in Nelson's bank account and then disappeared. Nelson wouldn't be the first person to betray his country for money."

Max turned to the next photo. "Who's this?"

"That's Roger Healey. He's an astronaut, too."

"Never heard of him."

"He's Nelson's best friend. They've flown in space together on a number of missions. He was even best man at Nelson's wedding. Whatever Nelson's involved in, Healey's usually not far away."

The third photo was of an older man, also in Air Force uniform but with the insignia of a colonel.

"That's Dr Alfred Bellows," the Chief said, "the base psychiatrist. He's the source of most of the reports I mentioned."

"Why is he a suspect?"

"Well, many of the reports are quite fanciful - trees growing indoors, snow falling from a clear sky, that sort of thing. It's possible that Bellows is, well, himself in need of a psychiatrist. But on the other hand, he may the real traitor trying to divert suspicion to Nelson."

"Don't worry, Chief. 99 and I will get this sorted out."

"One last thing, Max. Siegfried has been spotted in the vicinity of the Space Center over the last few days. If one of those men is a traitor, Siegfried could be his contact."

Max smiled fondly. "Good old Ziggy. I haven't seen him since La Paz. It'll be good to catch up with him again."

"Good old Ziggy? Max! Siegfied is a cold-blooded Kaos killer with orders to shoot you on sight!"

"Well, I didn't say it'd be good if he caught up with me." Max started to stand up again, then hesitated. Shifting in his seat, he said, "Am I off now, Chief?"

The Chief smiled. "For a long time now, Max." As Max rose, he added, "Oh, and Max, don't forget to stop by the lab - our lab - for that briefing." The Chief picked up the phone. "I'll call down and let Professor Walker know you're coming. We don't want you bursting in on him unexpectedly again."

"I don't know what he's so upset about, Chief," Max replied defensively. "That explosion wasn't nearly as big as he claims. And, anyway, his beard grew back, didn't it?"

-

Professor Walker was still moving some of the more sensitive items of his equipment to less vulnerable locations when Max and 99 reached the lab.

"Mr. Smart . . . 99 . . . I've been expecting you," he said, hurriedly pushing shut a cupboard door. "A briefing on Skylab, I believe."

"Yes," said 99, going on with an almost theatrical flourish, "Space is so fascinating; they call it the final frontier."

"That's true," Max affirmed.

99 looked at him in surprise. "That space is the final frontier?"

"No; that they call it that." Answering her unasked question he appended, "I've heard them."

"I've prepared a small slide show which I think you'll find enlightening," Walker said. He indicated where he had set up a projector and screen. "If you'll step this way . . . "

"A slide show?" Max said brightly. "We could have brought you our trip to Acapulco." Then, continuing in a darker tone, "If we'd been able to finish it."

"That's not the professor's fault, Max."

"You're right, 99," Max answered, suitably chastened. "Sorry about that, Professor. I didn't mean to blow up at you like that."

"You never do," Walker muttered, reflexively fingering his beard as if to reassure himself that it was still there. He switched on the projector and a picture appeared on the screen. "This is a photograph of yesterday's lift-off.

"The Chief said a full briefing so I think it's best if we start with the basics: Simply stated, Skylab is an experimental space station built into the third stage of this modified Saturn 5 moon rocket." He paused. "Do you know anything about the F-1 engines?"

"No," Max replied, "but there's no need to get nasty about it."

Walker sighed audibly. "The first stage of the Saturn 5 is powered by five F-1 engines, each of them bigger than a man, while the smaller Saturn 1B which is slated to launch the crew - " He consulted his notes. " - Pete Conrad, Joseph Kerwin and Paul Weitz - is powered by eight of the smaller H-1 engines."

"What happened to G?" Max asked.

Walker looked puzzled. "G?"

"You said there was an F-1 engine and an H-1 engine. Shouldn't there also be a G-1 engine?"

Walker blinked. "No one's ever asked me that before. You certainly have a unique way of looking at things."

"Well, thank you, Professor Walker," said Max, straightening his tie.

"See? There you go again."

Max froze mid-preen, fixing the professor with his patented slit-eyed scowl.

"The upper stages of both vehicles use J-2 engines. I suppose you want to know why there's no I."

"No," Max replied curtly. "Not now."

Walker operated a control on the projector and the picture on the screen changed. "This is the Saturn 1B as it presently stands on its launch pad. On the top is the Apollo spacecraft - designated Skylab Two - that the astronauts would use to rendezvous with Skylab. That launch had been scheduled for today but is of course now on hold while they try to work out if the program can be salvaged."

"I didn't realize it was that serious," said 99.

"Oh, yes. The damage is quite extensive." Walker operated the control again and a new picture appeared. "Here you see an artist's impression of what Skylab was supposed to look like in orbit. Notice the two wing-like structures extending from the sides; actually they are electricity-generating solar panels. Unfortunately, one of them has failed to deploy properly while the other seems to have come off altogether, severely curtailing the amount of electricity available. And there's an even bigger problem: the external heat shield appears to have been torn away resulting in the internal temperatures soaring well above habitable levels. It's believed that the cause was excessive vibration during the ascent phase." He glanced at Max. "Do you understand?"

"Of course I understand, Professor," Max retorted, still stinging from Walker's earlier rebuke. "After all, it's not rocket science!"

Professor Walker gaped at Max for a moment, then turned to 99. "Is he putting me on?"

99 silently shook her head.

Walker switched off the projector. "Well, that's about it. Good luck on your mission; the country needs that space station."

"We'll do our best," 99 promised. Walker refrained from giving an opinion on whether that would be sufficient.

They said their goodbyes and Max and 99 left the lab. Max closed the door behind them and walked a few steps, then stopped..

"What is it, Max?" 99 asked

"I forgot to ask Professor Walker if we'd see him at the Control dinner," Max replied.

"I don't think he'd want to be disturbed again for something like that, Max."

"It's only being polite, 99," said Max. He stepped back to the door and re-opened it. "Professor!" he called. "I was wondering if - " He never finished the question, interrupted by a bright flash coming from within the lab. "Never mind," Max said, and quietly closed the door.

_NASA Cocoa Beach, Florida_

General Schaeffer was a stocky yet distinguished gentleman with white hair and a matching moustache.

"I've agreed to allow you to conduct your investigation," he told Max and 99, "but I can't believe that Major Nelson or Dr Bellows - or any of my people - would be involved in any kind of double dealing."

"But you must admit that Major Nelson has been at the center of a number of strange incidents," Max said.

"Most of that was before I came to the base," the general replied. "All I can tell you is that in my experience Tony has been a loyal and dependable officer - especially since his marriage. Jeannie has been a steadying influence on him. Even more so since the birth of their son."

"Jeannie?" asked 99.

"His wife."

99 nodded.

There was a knock on the door and a man that Max and 99 recognised from the files as Dr Bellows entered the office. He was a more slightly built man with brown hair.

"You sent for me, General?"

"Yes, Doctor. I want you to meet Dr and Dr Smart."

99 extended her hand. "Doctor."

"Doctors?"

"Of engineering."

"The Smarts are here from Washington to investigate the Skylab mishap." This was careful wording on the general's part; literally true without revealing either the agency they were affiliated with or the precise nature of their investigation.

Max shook Dr Bellows' hand in turn. "I'm Max and this is my wife, er, Karen."

"Miranda," 99 said at the same time.

Max stared at her. "Miranda?"

99 stared back. "Karen?"

Dr Bellows stared at both of them before focusing on Max, regarding him with an expression akin to that of a rock hound who had just uncovered an interesting new specimen. "You don't know your own wife's name?"

"I, er, . . . "

"Max has short term memory loss," 99 said hurriedly.

"That's it," Max agreed. "I have short term memory loss." To 99 he added, "Good thinking."

"Mmm," Dr Bellows mused, "short term memory loss could be a symptom of something more serious."

"Well, it could be worse, " Max answered.

"How?"

"I could have short term memory loss."

Fortunately, Dr Bellows was apparently unfamiliar with the old joke. "Good lord!" he exclaimed. "How do you carry out your job with this problem?"

"What problem?" Max asked, straight faced.

"The short term memory loss."

"Oh. The short term memory loss. Yes, well, when I concentrate on my job I forget I have it."

Max and 99 exchanged uncomfortable glances, aware that the answer made no sense but thankful that Dr Bellows now seemed so bamboozled that he didn't know which line of inquiry to pursue.

General Schaeffer filled the void. "Dr Bellows, I want you to show Dr and Dr Smart around. Let them see anything they want. They have the freedom of the base."

-

They paused in the corridor.

"What do you want to see first?" Dr Bellows asked.

"I think we should start by interviewing Major Nelson," Max said.

"Major Nelson wasn't involved in the launch," Dr Bellows objected.

"But he is part of Project Skylab, isn't he?"

"Well, technically yes, but he's training for one of the Skylab B follow-on missions."

"Skylab B?" 99 asked.

"A second OWS - Orbital Workshop," Dr Bellows explained. "It was originally built as a backup but we've been making plans to launch it for a a further series of missions."

"A second Skylab," 99 murmured thoughtfully. She glanced at Max. "That makes it even more important that we talk to him."

Dr Bellows gave a puzzled frown. "Very well. Major Nelson's office is that way - " He pointed down the corridor and Max turned to look. " - but he won't be there at this time of day. He'll be in the Space Environment Training Facility with his crew." He turned and faced in the opposite direction. "That's this way." He checked his watch. "They should be just about finishing up now anyway," he said.

At that moment, Max, still looking in the direction Dr Bellows had first pointed, was astonished to see an attractive blonde woman dressed in a pink harem costume suddenly appear from out of nowhere. When she saw she'd beeen seen, a look of horror registered on her face and she clapped a hand over her mouth. Then she blinked her eyes and vanished.

Max closed his mouth - then opened it again to speak. "Did you see . . . ?" he began.

"What, Max?" 99 asked. She looked at Max and then in the direction he was still staring.

Max reconsidered. "Nothing," he decided.

-

Max and 99, along with Dr Bellows, entered the Facility from a door at one corner and were immediately overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the chamber in which they found themselves.

Close to where they stood, technicians were operating banks of computers while the astronauts - dressed in gold-colored jump suits - rehearsed their mission in a full-size mock-up of their spacecraft housed in a huge transparent enclosure.

Max and 99 recognised Tony Nelson and Roger Healey at opposite ends of the simulated laboratory module - far enough apart that they needed radio headsets to communicate. A third crewman could be seen at the rear.

"I want you to reset the Stellar Observation Camera from IR to UV," Tony instructed.

"Copy that," Roger replied. "Setting Solar Camera to UV."

"Negative," Tony corrected. "That's Stellar."

"Cellar?" Roger queried. "We don't have a cellar."

"Not cellar, Rog. Stellar."

"I still don't get you." Roger jiggled his headset. "I think there's something wrong with my comm gear."

"Stellar!" Tony shouted. "Stell-ar!!"

Dr Bellows picked up a microphone from one of the computer consoles. "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but I'm afraid we're going to have to cut this session short. There are some people here who want to talk to you."

"Reporters?" asked the third crew member. His identity was unknown to Max and 99, the Control files having managed to somehow overlook the likelihood that a three man crew would include three crewmen.

"No, not reporters," Dr Bellows answered. "They're from Washington."

This news was greeted with a noticable lack of enthusiasm from all three; visits from the pencil pushers seldom turned out to be anything but a waste of time.

Tony unlocked a large latch then opened the hatch. The three astronauts egressed then climbed down a long flight of steps to reach floor level.

"Major Anthony Nelson, Major Roger Healey, Lieutenant Barry Sargent . . . " Dr Bellows began. He broke off as the chamber door opened and an attractive blonde woman dressed in a simple yellow shift walked in. Dr Bellows beamed at her. "Ah, Jeannie, you're just in time for the introductions. This is Jeannie Nelson - Major Nelson's wife." He indicated Max and 99. "And these are Drs Max - and Miranda? - Smart." Dr Bellows looked to Max and 99 for confirmation but this time they both wisely remained silent.

"Doctor?" asked Roger. "I have this blister on my big toe . . . "

"Of engineering," 99 clarified.

"I'll see you about that toe later, Major," said Dr Bellows. For some reason this sounded rather ominous although he probably only wanted to check on the sizing of Roger's boot.

"I put my foot in it that time," said Roger to Tony.

Max shook hands with each one in turn. "Major . . . Major . . . Sergeant, er, Major. Sergeant Major?"

"Lieutenant," said Sargent.

"Lieutenant?"

"Roger."

"Yes?" said Roger.

Tony nudged him. "Not you, Rog."

"But I thought he said _sergeant_," Max protested.

"Sargent is my name; lieutenant is my rank."

"Lieutenant Sargent?"

"Roger."

"Yes?" said Roger.

"Not you, Rog," said Tony.

"Well, pleased to meet you, Roger," said Max.

"Yes?" said Roger.

"Not you, Rog," said Tony.

"My first name's Barry," said Sargent.

"Barry?" Max repeated.

"Lieutenant Barry Sergeant, USN."

"Then why do you keep saying . . . " He glanced cautiously at Roger. " . . . that other name?"

"Oh, that. That's pilot talk for 'acknowledged'."

"Acknowledged?"

"Roger."

"Yes?" said Roger.

"Not you, Rog," said Tony.

"Not you, Rog," Roger repeated despondently. "It's never old Rog."

Tony accepted 99's proffered hand and the two locked gazes.

"Do we know each other?" Tony said finally.

"I was just thinking the same thing," 99 admitted.

"This is going to sound strange," Tony ventured after a moment, "but have you ever lived on an island?"

"No, but it does sound like a nice way of getting away from it all."

Tony exchanged smiles with Jeannie. "My wife and I met when we were both stranded on a desert island."

"That's funny," said 99. "My husband and I spent part of our honeymoon stranded on a deserted island. Well, almost deserted," she amended.

They studied each others faces again then both shook their heads.

"Perhaps in another life," 99 suggested.

Meanwhile, Max had been staring at Jeannie. "Do _we_ know each other?" he asked.

Jeannie smiled impishly. "Dr Smart, are you flirting with me?"

"Certainly not," Max answered indignantly. "I never flirt when I'm on duty."

"And he's married," 99 put in.

"And I'm married," Max added. "Er, what I mean is: I don't even flirt with my wife."

"I am sorry to hear that."

"I flirt," Roger offered with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Everyone turned to look at him.

"It's you now, 'old Rog'," Tony observed.

Unfortunately for Roger, however, the fact that the only females within earshot were two happily married women with their husbands meant that his remark did not receive the reception he might have expected under other circumstances. "Tough room," he commented.

"Dr and Dr Smart are here to look into the launch accident," Dr Bellows said, hoping to claw back some semblance of order.

"I don't think we can be of much help to you with that," said Tony. "My crew and I were not really involved in launch preparations."

"That's what I told them," Dr Bellows said, "but they insisted."

"Well, if that's all," said Tony, "we're due at a debriefing."

"By all means," Max replied. "I think we'll call it a day as well; I think we've made good start. Thank you Dr Bellows you've been a big help."

Max and 99 headed toward the exit, while behind them Tony and Jeannie made plans to meet after Tony finished work and the perennially perplexed Dr Bellows scratched his head and wondered what help he had been.

Alone outside, 99 turned to Max. "What do you think?"

"I think they're a strange bunch the lot of them, 99. We're going to have to put them all under surveillance."

Act II

_Nelson Residence, Cocoa Beach, Florida_

"I'm telling you, Jeannie, there's something strange about those two." Tony set his now-empty coffee cup down on the breakfast table. "They've been snooping around the base asking questions for days now."

"Is that not their job?" Jeannie asked. She blinked her eyes and the pot containing fresh coffee floated gracefully through the air to the table, poured itself into Tony's cup and returned to its place on the counter.

"It's the _kind_ of questions they're asking," Tony explained, reaching for the plate of pancakes which had just materialized before him. "She wanted to know, if we have to go directly to Skylab B, whether my crew would get the mission since we've been training for it or if they'd give it to Captain Conrad's crew since they were ready to fly first. What has that got to do with investigating the accident? And _he's_ even worse."

"Why? What did he ask?"

"If I'd ever met Buster Crabbe."

"And have you?"

"_Jeannie_."

"I am sorry, Anthony. I thought it was important."

"It's completely _un_important; that's why it's important: It's like he doesn't know anything at all about engineering - but when I questioned his qualifications, he claimed he graduated first in his class at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. When I told him I found that hard to believe, he asked me if I'd believe second in Stanford! I said no, and he said 'How about the school of hard knocks?'. What sort of thing is that to say?"

"If he is that incompetent, then why are you so worried?"

"Nobody could be _that _incompentent. It has to be an act. I'm afraid he's not going to stop bumbling and stumbling around until he turns up . . . you know."

"And then they will throw you out of the Space Program," said Jeannie, voicing their long-held fear.

"And who knows what will happen to you and our son if they find out."

Jeannie sprang to her feet, incensed at the thought of any ill befalling her two men. "I shall blink them into toads!" she declared, folding her arms and making ready to blink.

"No, no, Jeannie. We have to be more subtle than that."

"Grasshoppers?"

"If they disappear, they'll just send others after them. We have to do something to distract their attention, not attract more." He dabbed a napkin to his lips and stood up. "We'll talk about it when I get home. Right now I have to get to an important meeting. They think they might have found a way to save Skylab A and they're calling everyone in on it."

"That is good news."

"Yes." Tony paused in the kitchen doorway. "Oh, Jeannie. I forgot to fill the gas tank in the car last night and it's running low. Would you mind . . . ?"

"Of course not, Anthony." Jeannie blinked.

"Thanks." He made to leave, then stopped. "That _was_ gasolene you just filled the tank with, right?"

"Of course. Why do you ask?"

"Well, the last time I asked you, you had you're mind on changing the baby's diaper and, well, let's just say it wasn't pleasant."

He kissed her goodbye and left the kitchen. A moment later she heard the front door open and close. Jeannie surveyed the kitchen, equipped as it was with all the latest in modern conveniences including a shiny new dishwasher. She blinked the dirty breakfast dishes into it then, impatient for the machine to do its work, blinked them clean.

She stood frowning for a moment, considering the situation bedevilling her husband of four years (and beloved master for four years before that). _How does he get himself into these things?_ she wondered. Then she smiled, folded her arms and blinked again. Then she nodded as if congratulating herself on a job well done and walked into the living room, her ponytail swinging from side to side behind her, to see what chores awaited her in there.

_NASA Cocoa Beach, Florida_

General Schaeffer stood up from the table, signalling that the meeting was over. "Thank you gentlemen; this has been very productive. I think we now have a plan we can work with. Captain Conrad, you and your crew plase remain behind to go over the details. The rest of you are dismissed."

Tony filed out of the conference room with the other officers and headed for his office. He opened the door absently - to find Max going through the desk drawers and 99 riffling the filing cabinet.

"Oh, pardon me," he said and began to close the door until noticing that it did indeed have his name on it. "What are you two doing in here?" he demanded.

"We could ask you the same question," Max countered.

"It's my office."

"Yes, but that doesn't explain what you're doing here."

"You're government spies, aren't you?" Tony exposited. "You're not investigating the accident. You're investigating us!"

"Actually," said 99, "we prefer the term 'secret agents'. 'Spies' seems so nosy."

"I knew this cover would never work," Max muttered. "So much for the Chief's brilliant ideas." He turned back to Tony and adopted his declamatory voice. "Yes, Major, you're correct: We're Control agents. We believe that Skylab was sabotaged and we believe we've found the smoking gun right here in your office! Er, not this gun," he clarified, glancing at the one he was holding. "I'm referring to this innocent-looking piece of paper we found cleverly concealed in plain view on top of your desk."

"What is it?"

"It's a receipt - as if you didn't know," Max smirked.

99 held it up for Tony to read. In a childlike hand was scrawled the single sentence, _Received for blowing up Skylab, six trillion ingots of finkillium signed Commander Wingate._

"But Skylab wasn't blown up," Tony protested, "and Commander Wingate retired two years ago. You can't possibly take this seriously."

"Sure we can," Max answered brightly. "But we don't! It's clearly a clumsy attempt to divert suspicion to an innocent third party and away from your own criminal complicity!"

"Mine?" Tony blurted.

"Yes, yours," Max snapped impatiently. "Try to keep up, Major. I don't want to have to say this more than once."

Tony's mind raced. "Wait a minute! First you said it was clever then you said it was clumsy. How can it be both?"

Max glared at him. "Don't bother trying to confuse me, Major. It's too late for that!"

Roger chose this inopportune moment (or opportune, depending on your point of view) to come to the doorway. Max hurriedly shoved his gun into his pocket but the atmosphere remained tense. "What's going on?" Roger asked.

"You remember the investigators," said Tony.

"Sure, it's an old TV show."

Tony gritted his teeth. "Roger!" He jerked his head toward Max and 99.

"Oh, those investigators," Roger realized.

Max eyed him speculatively. "We're looking into the possibility that Skylab was . . . sabotaged." He paused dramatically and waited for a reaction.

It wasn't long coming. "Sabotage," Roger repeated. He leapt to the obvious conclusion. "And you think Tony . . . ? Tony! Oh, Tony. How could you do that?"

"I didn't," Tony hissed. "You know how much I love the space program, Rog. Tell them I could never be involved in anything like that."

Roger whistled. "It's always the person you least suspect."

"We haven't ruled you out either, Major," 99 told him.

"Or the person you most suspect," Roger appended. "One of those."

"Thanks, Rog," Tony said dryly.

"I'm always here for you, buddy."

"I think I'd rather you were for me somewhere else - before you talk me right onto the gallows."

Roger seemed only too happy to comply. "Anything you say, Tony." He started backing away from the group, his eyes darting back and forth between Max and 99. "Nice talking to you," he mumbled, then darted down the hall.

"Don't go too far, Major!" Max called after him. He turned back to Tony. "Now, where were we?"

"The receipt," 99 reminded him.

"The what?"

"The receipt," Tony said in an exasperated tone.

"Oh, yes. Thank you, Major. Then you admit it."

"I admit nothing. I never even seen that paper before."

"Exactly what a guilty man would say! I'm afraid we're going to have to take you in. Do you have the handcuffs, 99?"

"Where are you taking me?" Tony demanded.

"Good question," Max replied. "Since Control doesn't have a secret headquarters in Florida. Mmm . . . the slammer? The clink? The hoosgow? Do you have a preference?"

"I'm rather partial to penitentiary," 99 volunteered.

"You can't do this to me!" Tony declared, standing on his dignity. "I'm an officer in the United States Air Force!"

"So . . . the brig?" Max wondered.

"That's Navy," Tony said haughtily.

"Then the hoosgow it is!"

"At least let me go to my house first," Tony pleaded. "I don't want Jeannie to hear about this from someone else. There's no telling what she might do." _If I'm right_, he added silently, _she's already done too much_.

"That does seem not unreasonable, Max."

"Well, we don't want to not be not unreasonable," Max said. "But we'll have our eye on you every minute. And make it quick. We have to wrap this up before the manned launch and we've a lot of time and not much to do. Er, strike that; reverse it." He winked at 99, "I always wanted to say that."

_Nelson Residence, Cocoa Beach, Florida_

Tony burst into the living room with Max and 99 trailing in his wake.

"Jeannie!" he yelled.

"I am here, Anthony," she answered from the top of the stairs. "Oh. I did not know we had visitors." Fortunately, she was dressed in her regular street clothes. "Hello, Dr and Dr Smart."

Tony slammed the front door shut. "They're not doctors!"

"Engineers," 99 corrected.

"They're not engineers! They're government agents. They think I sabotaged Skylab and now they think I planted phony evidence to put them off my track."

"Why do they think that?" Jeannie asked hesitantly.

"Because they found a certain piece of paper in my office," Tony replied. "You don't happen to know anything about that, do you?"

"You're not trying to blame all of this on your wife, are you, Major?" Max asked conversationally. "That wouldn't be very chivalrous of you."

Tony let go a manic, nervous burst of laughter. "That's exactly what I'm trying to do," he blurted. More calmly, he went on, to Jeannie. What I don't understand is why you wanted to drag Wingate into this. He's been nothing but a friend to us."

"You are always saying how you are afraid they will throw you out of the space program if they find out . . . you know. I thought that since Commander Wingate is already retired they could not throw him out."

"But they could throw him in jail."

Jeannie looked distraught. "I did not think of that."

"And now they want to throw me in jail."

"I only wanted to help," she said in a small voice.

"And what do I always say when you want to help?"

"'Do not help'?"

Tony's face softened. "I know you meant well." Again that manic laugh. "You always mean well; you just don't think through the consequences of your actions. But now we're left with only one alternative."

"Must we?"

"I'm afraid we must."

A look passed between them the meaning of which Max and 99 could only guess at.

Then Tony turned and faced them. "We've decided to tell you the truth."

"Good," said Max. "The truth will set you free. Unless you're confessing to a crime," he amended, "in which case it'll lock you up. Er . . . " He considered again. "Forget I said that last part."

"You were going to tell us something." 99 prompted.

"I was going to tell you . . . I was going to tell you that Jeannie," Tony took a deep breath, "is a genie."

"Jeannie's Jeannie," Max said dully. "What does that tell us?"

"Jeannie is _a_ genie," Tony enunciated.

"Well, of course Jeannie's a genie . . . a genie?"

"You know, Max. A genie," said 99. "One of those beings with the power to grant wishes like in Tales of the Arabian Nights . . . a genie?"

"I know what a genie is, 99," Max said peevishly. "I don't know what you're trying to pull here, Major, but you're going to have to do better than that."

"But it is true," Jeannie wailed.

"I'm sorry," said Max, "but I'm from Minnesota. You're going to have to show me."

"You mean Missouri," said Tony.

"Missouri? Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"All right, Jeannie. Go ahead. Show them."

"Are you sure about this, Anthony?"

"Sure?" Another burst of nervous laughter threatened to escape but he managed to contain it. "No, I'm not sure - but do it anyway."

"Very well," Jeannie replied uncertainly. She folded her arms and blinked. Before Max and 99's startled eyes, her form was replaced by a cloud of smoke. The smoke floated across the room, shrank down and headed for a wall niche holding a colorful decorative bottle. Then it lowered itself into the bottle until it could no longer be seen.

"The old-genie-in-the-bottle trick!" Max exclaimed. "I gotta be dreaming this." He pinched himself on the arm. "Nope. Wide awake . . . unless I'm dreaming I just pinched myself."

"You're not dreaming," Tony told him. That manic laugh again. "This is my worst nightmare come true."

"You say I'm not dreaming," Max objected, "but how do I know I'm not dreaming you saying I'm not dreaming?"

"I saw it, too, Max," said 99. "We can't be dreaming."

"Not necessarily, 99."

"Why not?"

"Well, you say you're not dreaming but how do you know you're not dreaming you're not dreaming saying you're not dreaming?" As 99 pondered this conundrum he went on, "For all I know we could be asleep on the beach in Acapulco and while I'm dreaming I'm here you're dreaming you're on a honeymoon with some other guy entirely." Suddenly he turned to look at her, brow knitted in consternation. "Okay, 99, who is he?"

"Who's who?"

"This dream guy of yours."

"Oh, Max!"

"Come on out, Jeannie," said Tony to the bottle.

The smoke peeped out from the top of the bottle, then emerged and floated back to the middle of the room. It grew back to full size and re-formed into Jeannie - only now she was wearing her harem costume.

Max's eyes widened at the unexpectedly familiar sight. "I did see you, didn't I? In the hall outside Major Nelson's office."

"Yes," Jeannie admitted. "I meant to pop into the office but sometimes when I am excited my aim is a bit off."

Max turned to 99. "99," he announced, "this may come as a shock to you, but Jeannie . . . is a genie!"

"You don't say," 99 responded laconically, an attempted eyeroll frustrated by an inability to tear her eyes away from the pink-clad apparition before her.

Slowly, the initial shock started to wear off and Max frowned. "As mind blowing as this is - not to mention narratively irresistable - what's it got to do with the case?"

"Now that you know," said Tony, "you must realize that this means that I'm innocent of any involement in what happened to Skylab."

"How do you figure that?" asked Max.

"Because," 99 answered, her mind at last beginning to turn to analyzing the implications, "it means that if he chose to he could get anything he wanted using genie magic; he has no need to sabotage rockets to influence crew assignments or sell out his country for money."

"Exactly," said Tony.

"And I assume that the same goes for Major Healey?"

"Yes," Jeannie confirmed. "He is in on it, too."

"Congratulations, Major," said Max. "It looks like you're off the hook."

"More like out of the frying pan and into the fire," said Tony. "We never wanted this to become grist for the mill."

Max scowled, irritated at being verbally trumped. "Well, it's water under the bridge now," he responded.

"That's easy for you to say," Tony replied bitterly. "We're going to be in big trouble when it hits the fan." He paused as an idea occurred to him. "On the other hand, aren't we all in the same boat? You know that Jeannie is a genie but we know that you're secret Control agents. I'm sure you wouldn't want that shouted from the rooftops either."

"Letting the cat out of the bag _would_ put a fly in the ointment," Max admitted.

"Then let's make a deal."

"Careful, Major," Max warned. "Er, that is to say, you're skating on thin ice." He narrowed his eyes. "What sort of deal?" he asked suspiciously.

"Tit for tat," said Tony."You keep our secret and we'll keep yours. Even steven."

"The price is right," Max conceded. "And you do have us over a barrel. But, still, my report _has_ to be above board."

"We'll lay all our cards on the table," Tony promised. "Our lives are an open book; we have nothing to hide - well, nothing else to hide. We'll give you any information about our whereabouts and activities you like; just keep the part about the magic under your hat."

Max looked at 99.

"Think of it as 'need to know'," she suggested. She smiled ironically. "No one will believe it anyway." She gestured to include Jeannie in her costume, Tony in his uniform, the bottle, the whole situation. "We'll be . . . voices in the wilderness."

She wasn't sure if that was an appropriate phrase but Max seemed to like it. "You hit the nail on the head there," he said, "and then they'll send someone to investigate us - for straight jackets." Max turned back to Tony. "Very well, Major. I think we can see eye to eye on this. If no one has any objections - or any more cliches - we have a deal." He held out his hand.

"I have one more," said Jeannie, much relieved at the turn events had taken. "All is well that ends well." She beamed with pride as Tony and Max shook hands. Was not her husband the most brilliant of all men?

"It's Tony," said Tony, feeling the maintaining of the military formality somewhat pointless after their respective revelations.

"Max," said Max. "At least the name's real."

"I am Jeannie," Jeannie said solemnly, then giggled, "the genie!" She gravely shook 99's hand, mimicking the men. "Is it Karen or Miranda? Dr Bellows said . . . "

"Neither. Everyone just calls me '99' - that's my agent number. We had to make something up on the spur of the moment to stop Dr Bellows from getting suspicious," she added by way of explanation.

"We know what that's like," said Tony.

This lightened the mood considerably and provoked genial laughter all round until Jeannie suddenly said, "Shh! We do not wish to wake up Little Anthony. He is sleeping upstairs."

"Little Anthony the rock and roll singer?" Max asked, impressed. "You really can get anything you want."

"No, it's our son, Tony Junior," Tony explained. "He's up in the nursery."

"Do you have children, 99?" Jeannie asked.

"Max and I have three and a half year old twins," 99 replied. "They're staying with their grandmother."

Jeannie's face lit up. "Ooh, you have twins?"

"Yes," Max replied proudly. "Two of them." He took out his wallet and held it open to display a small photograph. "That's the girl and that's the boy," he pointed out helpfully.

"It's the other way around, Max," said 99, although dressed in their matching playsuits and winter hoodies there was no discernable difference between them.

Max stared at the picture. "It is?"

"It was once prophesied that we would have two children," Jeannie said wistfully, "but one of them would have genie powers. So far our son has shown no sign of it and Anthony does not wish to tempt fate."

"Let's just say that fate has already blessed me enough," said Tony.

"Perhaps you are right, Anthony. My friend Samantha has a magical daughter and she says she can be quite a handful."

"Samantha? Is that another genie?" asked 99.

"No, Samantha is a witch."

Max's eyes widened. "A what?" he sputtered.

"Not a 'what'," Jeannie corrected. "A 'witch'. Do you wish to meet her? She lives in - "

Max hurriedly covered his ears with his hands and started reciting at the top of his voice, "We believe these truths to be self-evident . . . "

Jeannie eyed him curiously. "What is the matter?"

"I think what Max is trying to say," 99 replied, "is that we've heard enough unshareable secrets for one day." She signalled to Max that it was safe to uncover his ears. Her Shadow sense tingled and she looked up to see Tony watching her. She'd caught people staring at her and Max before but this was different. For once this was a look of recognition from someone who understood how two quite different people could sometimes make for a perfect fit. He gave her a nod and she nodded in return; in some ways Tony and Jeannie were like a mirror image of themselves.

"Would you care for anything?" Jeannie asked. "Tea? Coffee? Couscous?" As she mentioned each one she blinked until all three were floating in front of her.

"Perhaps another time," Max said, although in truth he was somewhat reluctant to consume foodstuffs which had just appeared out of thin air. "We'd better be going. We still have to get that report in before the manned launch."

"Of course," Tony endorsed. "I think we all agree that getting the program back on track is the most important thing right now."

"I understand." Jeannie blinked again and all the refreshments disappeared.

Meanwhile, Max reached down and started to remove his shoe.

"What are you doing?" Tony asked in mild alarm. Despite himself, he was beginning to like Max, admiring his devotion to duty, but was was concerned that this might be one eccentricity too many.

"We left our rent-a-car at the Space Center," Max answered. "I'm calling a cab."

"Max has a telephone in his shoe," 99 added, explaining again.

"Oh, that will not be necessary," Jeannie said, always eager to be of service. "I will blink you there." Oblivious to Max and 99's horrified expressions and her husband's frantic negative gestures, she folded her arms and blinked and Max and 99 were gone.

Tony groaned. "_Jeannie_."

"What is wrong, Anthony?"

Tony looked into her smiling, innocent face, the face that over the past eight years had been at the center of so much disaster and confusion, the center of his life, and felt himself smiling back. "Not a thing," he answered softly.

_Kennedy Space Center, Florida_

Jeannie's targeting had at least improved. After a moment of disorientation, Max and 99 found themselves in a secluded area adjacent to the car park. The only witness to their arrival was a dishevelled looking man with unkempt greying hair and the remnants of a thin moustache still visible amid a couple of days' growth of beard. He stared at them, rubbed his eyes, took a swig from the bottle he was carrying and rubbed his eyes again.

Max peered back at him. "Who's that little old man?" he asked. "I've seen him somewhere before."

"He's drunk, Max. Just ignore him."

"I never forget a face," Max insisted. "I know. That's Mr Spiegel - the jeweler who sold me the Morris Diamond for eighty dollars. I wondered what happened to him."

His curiosity satisfied, Max and 99 walked on toward the parking lot.

Mr Spiegel gazed glazedly after them, taking another swallow from his bottle. "No matter where I go, he haunts me," he slurred and, turning awkwardly, lurched off in the opposite direction.

-

"Tony and Jeannie are a nice couple, don't you think, Max?" 99 remarked as they made their way to the car. She wanted to say _after all_ but was afraid it might sound a little harsh.

"I suppose," Max replied noncommittally. "If you like nice couples."

99 allowed herself a moment for an affectionate sideways glance at him before returning to the matter at hand. "You know, Max," she reasoned, "this means that Dr Bellows must be innocent, too, since all those 'crazy' reports of his are most likely true." She pondered further. "What about Sargent?"

"It can't be him either," Max asserted.

"Why not?"

"He wasn't on our list."

99 didn't argue. Compared to the other alibis, this seemed strangely rational. "Then I guess our mission's over; we're all out of suspects."

"Not quite yet, 99," Max replied. "Look." He pointed to a figure on the other side of the busy car park.

"It's Siegfried," said 99.

"Yes," said Max. "The Chief said he'd been spotted in the area."

"Like a Dalmatian?" 99 asked.

"What?"

"You said Siegfried had been spotted and I wondered if you meant spotted like a Dalmatian."

Max halted in his tracks and turned to look at her. "99 . . . "

She stopped beside him. "Yes, Max?"

"Don't try to do comedy."

"Right, Max."

By this time, Siegfried had seen them, too, but to their surprise, instead of trying to hide from them he walked toward them with an expression disturbingly like a smile on his face.

"Ah, Shmart!" he boomed. "Und 99. Good to see you!"

"Siegfried." 99's responded shortly.

"What are you doing skulking around the Space Center?" Max demanded.

"Skulkink?" Siegfried seemed taken aback. "I am not skulkink." He regarded himself. "Zis is just an occupazhional hazard." He straightened his posture a little, attempting to look less furtive and more festive. "I am here to take ze tour," he told them. "Zis is vat tourists do - zey take tours. I am a tourist!" he concluded, as if proving a scientific theorem.

Max eyed him skeptically. "You're a tourist?"

"Even a Kaos superspy deserves a little vacazhion now and zen."

"A vacation?"

"Stop repeating everysing I say!"

"Stop repeating everything you say? Oh. Sorry about that, Siegfried." Max frowned. "And I suppose you just happen to be here right when NASA has two major rocket launches scheduled."

"Of course not!" Siegfried snapped. "Dummkopf! Ze place is crawling wiz people here to see zose launches. Ah, I see. You are investigating suspects in vat has happened to ze Skylab."

Max threw up his hands in disgust. "Is it that obvious? Why don't I just wear a sign?"

"I give you my vord: Kaos had nossing to do wiz zat."

"Why should we take your word?" 99 asked.

"Haff I ever lied to you?"

"Yes! Many times."

"Zen you know vat it looks like."

"It looks a lot like this," 99 rebutted.

Siegfried sighed heavily. "Let me put it zis way: Would I be standing out here in ze open like zis if I was doing somesink nefarious?"

"I suppose that makes sense," 99 grudgingly admitted. She looked at Max and shrugged.

Max glanced around. "Where's Shtarker?"

Siegfried looked downcast. "Shtarker und I are taking separate vacazhions zis year," he said. "He says zat I haff been mean to him - always ordering him about."

"Well, you _are_ his boss."

"Zis is what _I_ say! But he says he vants me to act 'friendly'. All ze time I am telling him: 'Shtarker, zis is Kaos. Ve are not friendly here!'. But does he listen? Nein! Und now he insists zat I see a '_counselor_' to vork out my '_issues_'." He practically spat out the last word. "Zis is vhy I haff come back to Florida. My counselor has advised zat I confront my mother face to face . . . und ask her vhy she never bought me zat sled!"

"Oh. Well, good luck with that."

"Ah, Shmart. A man never had a better enemy zan you."

With that he suddenly clasped Max in a hug leaving Max anxiously scanning the crowd, hoping that no one had been looking. Siegfried looked at 99 and seemed about to do the same to her until a pair of raised eyebrows made him think better of it. Then he turned and, dabbing at the corners of his eyes, disappeared into the crowd.

"All right, 99," said Max as they watched him go, "_now_ we're out of suspects."

_Control Headquarters, Washington, DC_

Max tossed the thick bundle of papers onto the Chief's desk.

"There it is, Chief," he said. "Conclusive proof that none of those men were responsible for the damage to Skylab. Nelson, Healey and Bellows are all innocent."

"I know that, Max," the Chief answered.

"How could you possibly know that when I've only just given you my report?"

The Chief opened a drawer and removed a thick bundle of papers which he lay next to Max's. "Because I've just be given this report that contains conclusive proof that the accident was simply a mechanical failure. No sabotage was involved."

Max stared at the two nearly identical looking volumes before looking up to glare accusingly at the Chief. "You mean to tell me that you dragged us away from our second honeymoon and now it turns out that it was nothing more than a wild goose chase?"

The Chief shrugged apologetically. "Looks that way."

"'Looks that way'? Is that all you have to say?

"What _can_ I say? Except - " A wicked glint appeared in the Chief's eye. " - sorry about that, Max."

_Kennedy Space Center, Florida  
May 25, 1973_

"That's right," General Schaeffer told the gaggle of reporters clustered around him. "One of the astronauts will have to open the Apollo's hatch and perform a partial spacewalk to try to extend the remaining solar panel manually in order to restore electrical power. They will then attempt to attach a new sunshade to the outside of the station - that should lower the internal temperature. It's going to be tricky but with the special equipment we've designed we believe there's an excellent chance of success." The reporters all started to call out at once but the general raised a hand. "You'll find the answers to all your questions in the press kit available from the Public Affairs Office." He turned and began the climb up the steps of the V.I.P. viewing stand to where his grey-haired wife was already seated.

A short distance away sat Dr and Mrs Bellows and, a little further down, Tony and Jeannie and their special guests, Max and 99. Roger was there, too, with his girlfriend, Tina - a pretty young woman with distinctively-styled blonde hair - as well as Lieutenant Sargent and his wife, Maureen.

The tension mounted as, down on the launch pad, the countdown clock ticked toward zero. Precisely on time, 9:00am EDT, the first stage engines ignited and the mighty Saturn rocket started its ascent.

As the vehicle cleared the launch tower, the voice of the spacecraft commander, Pete Conrad, crackled through the loudspeakers. "This is Skylab Two. We fix anything."

Max leaned in toward 99, so as to be heard above the rocket's roar. "Now he tells us."

The End

Historical Note  
Skylab really was launched on May 14, 1973 and really did suffer the damage described in the story. This really was followed by a ten day delay and a scramble for a solution before the first crew, consisiting of Pete Conrad, Joe Kerwin and Paul Weitz, could be launched to board it. (At launch, Conrad really did make the "we fix anything" comment.) Two more crews followed for missions of 28, 59 and 84 days respectively - each one setting a new spaceflight endurance record as well as conducting an extensive science program.

And there really was a Skylab B; a second complete Orbital Workshop built as a backup. At one time there really was a plan to launch it for use in further missions. Unfortunately, this never happened and Skylab B is now on display at the National Air and Space Museum of the Smithsonian Institution.

However, despite being set against this background, please bear in mind that this story is still primarily a work of fiction and should not be relied upon for historical or technical accuracy.


End file.
